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Joan LaageJoan LaageJoan Laage

the slippery fish that is butohSeems like there's a correlation between that and the shamanic trance-like state of being in tune with everything. As far as the art form goes, since so much of it is improvisational, does it require a sense of awareness of what you are doing, or can Butoh even described in those terms?

It is a seeking. Again, there's structured improvisation and some of it is not so structured, but the thing that really differs from the movement-based dance theatre is that it is primarily image-based and an art of metamorphosis. Hijikata created a vocabulary: this is a tree. But there's different varations of what a tree could be, or even whether it's the image of the tree you're working with. Imagery is so important that in a movement form you must either be given the imagery, or you'll locate it yourself. So for example, I used to improvise a lot with contact and other improvisations. Just last year when I was in the improvised music festival here, two of my dancers and I decided we would go on with no imagery. We would just go out. In earlier experiences with improvising, I would be influenced by sound or the way my body felt, but it's more like opening spaces for something to happen… just like your life had to happen! It doesn't matter what it is, whether I go like this, or whether I go like that (gesturing wildly with her hands).

That's why it has so much detail and there's a sense of purpose. But it's not intention, it's just the purposefulness of being alive and being. Of course, in any kind of improvisation, often people will say, "Don't try to make it happen, let it happen." But in Butoh, that's essential. Without that, the true sense of Butoh is not there.

The other thing is time. Time in the Eastern and Western ways of thinking differs. Quantum physic is where the West is finally coming to copy the Asian way of life, its philsophy and existence. It's almost as though we can finally prove that they were right all along, which is great because it closes the gap a little bit. But then, there's the whole Western logical mind that comes from philosophy and psychology. You know, in Japan, they didn't go to shrinks years ago.

I read an article where it said that Butoh has maintained its distinction in refusing definition, it being neither dance nor theatre. Even as a relatively new art form, it seems it's already developed a tradition — with it's beginnings as a rebellion and now its becoming more metaphysical or spiritual. How do you view the future of Butoh?

Hijikata really shattered the glass. He kept doing it — the denial of the body — until he came around about 9 or 10 years later. Then, after breaking everything and purging as much as possible, it was as though he was finally ready to create some system, that he had decided to research his roots and figure out who he really was. Out of that, he developed this vocabulary of gestures and postures which is the tradition of Butoh. That's the tradition of form.

The tradition of spirit is the sense of rebellion. Several years ago, as I was doing a lot of solo work, I decided I wanted to break my own form. I kept feeling the spirit of Hijikata through breaking and forming, and breaking and forming, getting closer to my real voice. The great, interesting, sincere, engaged artists are doing that, especially if they're doing something that's not codified. With Hijikata, he was so clear that that was his journey. This is what he gave us: the traditional vocabulary. I did that, but then I had to teach myself how to create movement from imagery. I went out to do that for myself, with my own imagery.

Butoh first came to Europe in the 1970s and so Europe has seen more of it. Of course, Japan was much more connected to Germany, and their relationship in terms of Butoh is much stronger. In Europe, they are expecting something new and different. In the U.S., I think people still have an appreciation for the traditional Butoh as well as the new because there's still something strange and exotic about it. I have a question for reviewers: How much are you really intrigued by the art form — the aesthetics of what Butoh is in terms of time, space, texture, and all that make up a work — and how much are you riding on the intrigue of exoticism?

In the past 10 to 20 years, the number of Butoh troupes who actually got to the U.S.been quite small. There are people like Min Tanaka and Sankai Juku who keep coming back, and then there are people who have been involved in Butoh for quite a while, but remain unknown. One of my missions is to let people know about the other Butoh artists. In Japan, there's still a following for Butoh, but many people think that Butoh was a movement of the 60s and 70s which no longer exists. In Europe, the audiences are more savvy… they're a little more particular, they're not so readily engaged and pleased, they're expecting more.

What did you think of Butoh-sha Tenkei's recent (Winter 1997) Seattle performance?

I haven't seen that kind of stuff in a while. There were some really engaging points and places visually and also feeling-wise, but there were also places where I thought, "Nahh." It's funny, because my group (Dappin' Butoh) was really split. Some people loved it and others went, "Ehh." Butoh is different than doing modern dance, believe me. In Japanese society, you have to choose a role and you have to fulfill that role. Early on you make the decision. So people who are involved in Butoh give up a lot. They don't necessarily marry, or have kids, or work for a company. Things are really changing in Japan, but Butoh dancers really have to give up a lot. So that's when I say just to be an avante garde artist, whether you're doing theater or Butoh or whatever, it is a rejection of society, other people would see it as that… you haven't fulfilled the purpose of life. In the U.S. it's different, one year I can work with a company, and next year do something else, it's fluid.

Ultimately, some people are "been there, done that" and again are they engaged because it's something exotic. With Butoh-sha Tenkei, there were some neat things, and I think they are fine performers, but compositionally it could've been more interesting. Butoh, for me, is a very humbling experience and a very sincere experience. I think what it comes down to in any art, any performance, is how engaging is that performer? You could do it old style, new style, do it nude, wear paint. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. The question is: How engaging of a performer are you? A lot of people get into performing, but they're not mature enough. The best combination is the creative process, the work itself and your engagement in performing.

Is Butoh relevant today?

First of all, Butoh can mean different things. Butoh was born of a particular time. What can I, as an American, know of that time? Also, what can Japanese people know about that time? I mean, they live in such a different world that the question is as interesting and valid as it is for them as it is for us. Even the white paint — if you wear white paint — people either accept it or, if they don't like Butoh, they say it's copying an idea. To me, it's about erasing yourself. It really is a wonderful thing, in the sense of being a canvas and the opening up of possbilities. A lot of performance recently, whether it's in theater or dance is very self-indulgent: it's my life, and my trip, and my self is out there, and me me me me me. Well, my life should be interesting. My life would be most interesting if I could really put material together about my life and if I were a really engaging performer.

I'm interested in universal themes. In that sense of killing yourself in order to construct something else. Of getting yourself out of the way of what is really there.That's where your own life experiences are material for you to use and can feed you personally, aesthetically, and artistically. At the same time, as my husband David said in contrasting a recent performance of K.T.Nieoff — a very, very beautiful modern dancer and talented composer — with a performance of my own in the same program: the difference between the works was that Niehoff's piece was about me, look at me, and in my piece it was look at yourselves. I'm more interested in exploring the mirror that encompasses us all, fundamentally, because, ultimately, there's something greater. Whether you believe in reincarnation or not, or in rebirth, there's something much greater than our own little trips.


 
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